Forever Knight (The Champion Chronicles Book 3) (35 page)

Captain Farrus ignored his ship captain’s screams about his damaged boat and his wounded sailors.  He walked over to Hargon, who had huddled near the deck railing, out of the way of the fighting.  Hargon had subconsciously placed a hand over the box that was hidden under his shirt.  Although he considered pulling it out and tossing it overboard, he was too afraid to move.  Farrus still had his sword in hand, and he didn’t want to give the centurion any reason to use it.

Farrus pulled the former emperor to his feet and had one of the Taran sailors bind Hargon’s hands behind his back.  “You really don’t remember much of me, do you?”

“We were friends when we were boys.”

Farrus laughed.  “You were a spoiled bully.  You treated me as if I was your slave.  You might have thought of me as your friend, but I hated you.  My father wanted me to be your playmate so that he could gain favor with your father.  So go ahead and beg all you want, but I have no sympathy for you.”

With Hargon silenced with fear, Farrus used his sword to cut a long length of rope from the ship’s rigging.  Then he tied Hargon’s hands and pushed the former emperor to the edge of the deck.

“Jump,” Farrus ordered.

Hargon looked up, still unable to speak.  He opened his mouth to protest, but no words would come out.

“Jump or I’ll push you.”

The two ships, still stuck into one another, had drifted to shallow water near the riverbank and became stuck.  Hargon climbed over the ship’s railing and jumped into the water.  He landed hard and fell face first into the freezing cold water of the river.  Panicked from the cold, he splashed his way out of the river and up onto the riverbank.  Farrus was right behind him and gave him a push to keep moving.

“We have a long walk,” Farrus said.  “Keep moving.”

Hargon let out a whimper, but he did not protest.  He let himself be pulled towards the Darkenwood where the Taran army was camped.

***

With the catapults in full flame, their mission was done.  Marik shouted the command for a controlled retreat.  They no longer needed to push forward and attack, they now needed to pull back into a tight formation to defend themselves while they withdrew from of the fight.  The knights that were still mounted covered those that were on their feet, using their horses to block any attempt by the centurions to start a counter-attack.  A few courageous knights, knowing that this was to be their last battle, pushed forward to draw the fight away from the retreating knights, and to also take as many Taran centurions with them as they could.

Every inch of Marik’s body was sore.  Not only from the jarring blows and parries, but from the small slashes and cuts that passed through his defenses.  He was not severely wounded, but he was physically wearing down.  He glanced around him and he knew that he was not alone.  Although they had trained for many hundreds of hours for battle, he knew training could not replicate the conditions of the battlefield.  Their footing was horrible as the cold ground became a mess of wet mud.  The stench of blood and exposed bowels assaulted his senses.  The screams of the dying were as bad as the begging for mercy.  The adrenaline rush that pushed him through the battle was slowly leaving him.  And with it, his energy reserves as well.

He could no longer thrust his sword with any force.  He could only use it to parry and slash.  And as his strength began to fade, the centurions who now pushed forward were not suffering the same fatigue.  Those that had started the battle were now dead or too injured to fight.  The reserves had taken their place, providing a much needed push against the knights.  Many were easily dispatched, but just as many were skilled enough to be a threat.

The line of knights that had formed to control the retreat was holding.  The centurions, stepping over their own fallen brothers, weren’t too eager to push forward.  They might have been physically able to push the attack forward, but something seemed to be holding them back.  Marik felt confident that they would be able to manage the retreat and return to the city to rest and prepare for the next assault.  Until he caught movement from behind the Taran lines.

A large group of centurions held in reserve was running to outflank their retreat.  The knights on foot, weighted down with armor and exhausted from battle, would not be able to run fast enough to cover the flanking move.  The mounted knights noticed this as well and positioned themselves to help defend the Taran action, but there would likely not be enough.  Most of the mounted knights were already on the northern side of the battlefield and were going to repel the knights left flank.  But there were not enough knights on the southern side to protect their right flank.  It would only be minutes before they were surrounded.

Shouting to his right caused Marik to glance in that direction and be distracted enough to take a glancing blow of his left shoulder.  His armor protected the initial blow, but the blade of the centurion short sword slipped between the folds of his leather armor and sliced across his chainmail shirt.  He wasn’t cut, but the blunt force of the blow made his left arm go numb, making his shield arm suddenly useless.  He countered by driving his sword deep into the belly of his attacker.  The death blow gave him just a moment to catch his breath and wonder what was happening on the southern flank.  There was lots of shouting, but no words that he could understand.  He only hoped that it wasn’t the Taran reserves surrounding them.

***

Conner slowed before he reached the battlefield to catch his breath.  He wasn’t breathing hard, but he needed to be sure he was rested enough to fight.  He was thankful of all the hard work that Master Goshin forced him to do, and was even more thankful that it hadn’t all left him.  It had not been a full sprint from the river, but it had been a steady run.  He certainly wasn’t as fresh as the elf, but he did not feel any fatigue at all.

He surveyed the battlefield as he approached.  He was no military expert, but he had learned much about combat while training with the squires.  They did not spend all their time on the field swinging swords.  Some of their time was spent learning about battlefield tactics.  And now he could see those lessons play out in front of him.

The Karmon force was split between mounted knights and soldiers on the ground.  It took him a moment to realize that those on foot were simply knights who had lost their horses.  Past the battle, the three catapults were fully ablaze.  They would not be knocking down the wall today.  Slowly, the knights were being pushed backwards.  He quickened his pace as he approached the battle, fully intending to help the knights regain lost ground.

But then he realized that they were letting the Tarans push them backward as they were simply falling back in a controlled manner.  With the catapults ablaze, and the walls secure, maybe their goal had already been met and it was time to regroup.  However, coming around the backside were fresh Taran centurions, rushing to outflank the knights.  If they were able to cut their line of retreat, the knights would be surrounded and slaughtered.

His twin Sak’turana’s were sheathed in scabbards at his side.  The moment they came out, an incredible flow of energy exploded through him.

He turned and pointed his swords at the fresh centurions and said to Glaerion, “They’re flanking.”

Glaerion snorted and replied, “Of course.” 

The elf had already drawn his dagger.  He could have run ahead and attacked the centurions alone, but he stayed next to Conner, knowing that the two of them would be more potent together.

***

Queen Elissa put her hand to her mouth as she saw what was happening.  After the knights had pushed through the centurion lines to set the catapults on fire, they had started a controlled pull-back.  The knights that were still mounted kept the centurions back while those that were on foot were able to move away from the fighting.  But she could see what the knights on the ground could not.  Their retreat was too slow.  Two masses of centurions were suddenly running around the main force.  One from the north, and one from the south.  When they met, they would enclose all the knights into a tight noose.  It did not take any military knowledge to know what would happen then.

With the knights surrounded, it would only be a matter of time before they would all be slaughtered.

She looked hopefully at her army as it began streaming out of the main gate.  But even if they all were to run at a full sprint, they would not reach the knights in time.

Toknon, still by her side, let out a hefty sigh and said, “Too little, too late.”

“What?” Elissa asked, looking up at him.

He pointed towards the southern flank that was racing around the knights.  “Two courageous soldiers against an entire army.  Foolhardy.”

There were more than just two, but those two were the fastest of the group that had come running from the river.  As the two men approached the centurions that were running towards them, they slowed to a walk and drew their weapons.  One looked like he pulled a dagger from his belt, but the other drew two swords that were unlike any weapon a knight would use.  At first, she thought nothing of it, but it was when he started spinning the swords in his hands that the thought came to her.  As he engaged the centurions, she knew for sure.  There was no mistaking his killing dance.  He moved so quickly, so gracefully, just like she had remembered.

“It can’t be,” she whispered.  Fear and despair left in a flash.  Tears flowed from her eyes and her heart was suddenly healed.  He wasn’t dead.  Her champion had returned to save her.

***

Conner and Glaerion raced past the exhausted retreating knights.  Many of them had noticed the flanking move, but were unable to disengage from those that were pushing them back.  A few at the rear who were nursing injuries gained renewed strength at the swords that flashed through the air.  They remembered him.  They remembered what he had done on the training grounds, on the field of battle, and in the defense of the Queen.  They too, had heard that he was dead, and the sight of him made them regain their lost hope.

Conner took in a deep breath right as he brought his sword on a downward slash at the first centurion in his way.  It was the last time he would remember breathing for some time.  He didn’t just swing his swords, he danced with his opponents, slicing limbs with ease and death with each stroke.

The reserves had expected an easy fight, picking off the weak and injured from the rear as the main force pushed the knights into them.  But their advance was stopped by one man with swords that moved so fast, he couldn’t be stopped.  And he wasn’t alone.  Next to him was a tall stranger that was just as quick, and just as deadly.  He didn’t use two long swords, he only used a simple curved dagger.  Between the two of them, the flanking move was stopped in its tracks.

But, there were too many centurions for just two warriors, despite their skill with a blade.  The centurions were stopped only momentarily, shocked at what was happening to them.  But they were professional soldiers, highly trained and disciplined.  Their human, emotional reaction only delayed their push.  Once their warrior skills took over, they would have pushed forward and around the two soldiers who stood in their way.  Using sheer numbers to overwhelm the superior swordsmen, they would have eventually fallen.

With a resounding shout, the knights at the rear of the formation had joined Conner and Glaerion with just enough men to truly stop the flanking move.  Tired arms and shoulders were tired no more.  Fatal wounds were not quite yet fatal.  They held the line long enough for the rest of the knights to continue their slow retreat out of the trap.

Trumpeting filled the air and the push of the centurions slowed.  They began to disengage and retreat away from the battle themselves.  The knights, already hurt badly, did not chase after, they simply let the centurions fall back.

Conner and Glaerion continued to push forward, even as the centurions were clearly falling back.  The centurions fought back, but not as aggressively, as they knew the battle was over.  But neither Conner nor the elf cared.  With each body that fell, Conner saw only the body of his good friend Master Goshin fall.  And it made him want to just spill more and more blood.  He did not see men in front him, he saw them only as the enemy, faceless combatants who only needed to die.  And Conner was here to give them their death.

Glaerion was happy enough to push forward with Conner, as he had his own demons to exercise.  Five thousand years of pent up anger was released on the battlefield.  The killing of each man soothing his soul just that much more.

***

Elissa watched in complete shock and awe as Conner entered the battle.  This was the same boy that she had seen just a few months ago.  She had seen him train, had seem him humiliate a well-trained squire on the training grounds, but never could she have imagined the swordplay that she saw.  Between him and his tall companion, they changed the tide of the battle.  As soon as they stopped the flanking move, other knights joined them to ensure that it would not continue.  With each sword strike, she was sure that a Taran would strike him back, but it never happened.  He was too quick and too good.  And before she knew it, the sound of trumpets echoed from the back of the battle field and it was over.